Immediately after lunch I went back home to go to St. Peter. Today is the feast of the Chair of Peter: the bronze statue, with the foot worn by the kiss of the faithful, and is lined with red cope and crowned with the tiara, the chair covered by the glory of Bernini is surrounded by candles lined with geometric rigor.
"Cathedra", the most important element of any episcopal see, the one that gives its name to the "cathedral". The bishop sits down and teaches there. It is a sign of his task as teacher of the faith. What is in St Peter's, supported by two large fathers of the Church of the East, Athanasius and John Chrysostom, and the two large Fathers of the Church of the West, Ambrose and Augustine, is not one on which he sat Peter, but that donated by Charles the Bald to Pope John VIII that the aveva incoronato re; se l’era portata con sé dalla Francia per l’occasione.
Chissà dove si sedeva Pietro quando insegnava nella sua “sede episcopale” prima di Antiochia e poi di Roma? Su un sasso, su uno sgabello qualsiasi… Oppure parlava in piedi, appoggiato al muro. È certo che quando parlava incantava la sua gente. Raccontava di Gesù, di quando lo chiamò sul lago, di quando lo riconobbe figli di Dio, di quando lo tradì, delle lacrime quella notte del tradimento, che spuntavano ogni volta che ricordava quel momento tremendo…
Oggi in San Pietro ho lasciato che mi raccontasse di nuovo la sua storia e gli ho chiesto di darmi il suo stesso amore per Gesù.
Ho riletto, nel mio “Racconti di Cafarnao”, quando narrava dell’ultimo incontro con Lui:
Chi era quell’uomo, là sulla roccia, sul bordo del lago, che dava consiglio a noi pescatori? Contro il sole nascente non ne distinguevo il volto. Doveva essere uno dei vecchi pescatori di Cafarnao, usi al mestiere. Calammo le reti, come ci aveva gridato. E il pesce, latitante tutta la notte, noticed in droves. I felt as pulled from the network.
"It is the Lord," whispered the youngest. The Lord? Folded edge of the boat, I was paralyzed for a moment to look at the water quivering silver. The Lord? I should not think that was possible. He never concealed his glory, the Risen Lord, behind that old fisherman on the bank over there? Should have been weighted to better that statement: It is the Lord. But I had to let go, I had already taken off his clothes, I had already thrown in the water towards him, the Lord. He was
was just him against the light, but it was just him and not recognize him lo riconoscevo nei suoi lineamenti, ma era proprio Lui. Ansimante, caddi in ginocchio e lo guardai. Era proprio Lui.
- Pietro, mi ami?
- Ti amo, gli dissi con la passione di sempre.
- Mi ami più di tutti?
- Sì, Maestro, gli gridai con convinzione, mentre mi sentivo il cuore in gola, e non era più per la corsa nell’acqua.
- Pietro, mi ami veramente?
La terza volta! Mi sentii schiantare il cuore. L’entusiasmo e la passione delle prime due risposte si incrinarono. La vista mi si appannò. Era nuovamente quella nube che mi aveva tolto la sua figura sul monte santo? Come allora mi sentii vacillare. M’invase that fear the dark and trembling.
my betrayal, my triple betrayal: I do not know, I do not know, I know nothing about him ...
I looked at him again. Recognize him and did not recognize him, but it was him the fountain of bitter tears that had opened his eyes into the high priest in Jerusalem began to moan. Recognize him and did not recognize him, among the veil of tears, but it was only him now, from the brink of my betrayal, I could tell the truth:
- You know - I whispered in a faint voice, but it was the my life to tell her - you know everything, you know I love you.
- Feed my sheep.
So it was that I opened the way, travels the world witnessing to the love.
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